Gus The Hostage
by Collegekid2006
Summary: Gus is taken hostage in a video store...can the gang get him out of this one...alive?
1. Chapter 1

It had been a long day for Gus.

Well, actually, it had been a long two weeks. Shawn had dragged him into two cases, which meant he had been going into the office early and staying late to catch up on his sales ever since. But now, it was Friday night. At last he could go home, pop in a DVD, and relax. Shawn-free, work-free, hassle-free for one whole evening. Gus' only problem at this moment was what movie to rent tonight.

He pulled into the video store parking lot. There were only two other cars there.

Gus browsed the library for about half an hour, not looking for anything particular. Maybe Glory, he thought absently. He rented it about once a month, and Shawn was always telling him he should just buy it. Maybe he should just buy it…

Finally, he settled on some Will Ferrell comedy and headed to the desk. The man in line in front of him was arguing with the clerk.

"I just returned it this morning!"

"I'm sorry, sir. It's not here."

The customer slammed his fist on the desk, the veins in his neck looking like they were about to explode.

"I need it tonight!"

"Try Blockbuster. They probably have it."

Gus saw the gun just a moment before the man was pointing it at the young clerk's temple.

"You're gonna have to do better than that."

Time stopped as a chill ran through Gus' body.

_Oh, God. I'm not getting home tonight._

The blood had already drained from the clerk's face.

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" He asked, spreading his arms helplessly. "It's not here."

"That's a shame," the man shrugged. Gus knew he only had a moment to act.

Without thinking, he grabbed the man's shoulder, spinning him around and reaching for the gun. He managed to get a hand on the barrel, but the man wasn't letting go that easily. With his free fist, he took a swing at Gus. Gus blocked the blow.

The gun went off.


	2. Chapter 2

Karen Vick was tired.

Exhausted, even.

Why did these things always have to happen the day after the baby was up all night with cholic? Couldn't the lowlifes who held stores hostage at least wait until she got a decent night sleep?

The negotiator was on the phone with someone inside the store. She tried to hear what he was saying, but his voice was low and what little she could have heard was being drowned out by a very loud motorcycle approaching.

She glanced behind her as Shawn Spencer drove up.

How did he do it? She wondered. How could he possibly know already? It hadn't even been on the scanner yet.

"Mr. Spencer," she called, motioning him over.

He grinned and waved at her.

"Hi, Chief."

"Listen. I know how concerned you must be, but there's nothing you can do here. Please, just go home."

His smile immediately faded.

"Concerned?" He repeated. "About what?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Why are you here?"

He shrugged that carefree, never-had-a-real-job-never-wanted-one shrug that always irritated her just a little.

"I don't know. I was…led by a presence. But I can't see a face yet…"

"That would be your friend, Mr. Guster."

"Gus?"

He suddenly turned pale, any trace of jocularity gone in an instant.

"Gus is in there?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer, but please—"

She was interrupted by the negotiator.

"Chief, we have to move fast," he said.

"Why? What's going on? What are his demands?"

"I can't get any out of him yet. He's scared, in over his head. He just wants out."

"Then give him an out!"

"I did. I tried. He's not biting."

"Then why do we have to move fast?"

"Because," he replied, eyeing the still stunned and silent Shawn cautiously. "Because he's already shot one hostage."


	3. Chapter 3

It was all happening so fast…it was all happening too fast.

It should have been easy. Go in, get the DVD…get out.

Why had he even brought his gun along?

It should have been easy.

The Idiot Hero was lying on the floor in front of the counter, the pool of blood around him slowly growing. The bullet had passed through his hand and his shoulder. He was still conscious, but not for long.

The clerk was sitting behind the counter, pale and shaking. The jerk. He deserved to shake a bit. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He'd hit the silent alarm, which meant they were all stuck there until the damn cops left.

The cops. They wanted his demands now. What demands? He just wanted them to leave. He just wanted to go home. He could get the DVD later…later…

He tried to stall the cops, but once they knew someone was shot they got really pushy. He had to figure something out. Fast.

He glanced back down at the Idiot Hero. He was barely clinging on.

Who was he, anyway? The cops might ask.

He bent down and grabbed the guy's wallet. He wasn't in any condition to resist. He flipped through it, hoping to find an ID.

A business card caught his eye.

Psych.

A psychic?

He almost laughed at the idea. A psychic was exactly what he needed right now. Someone who could see the future, tell him what to do…where the DVD was...

"Hey, Idiot." He pointed his gun at the Idiot Hero again. The Idiot flinched, but almost imperceptibly. His eyes were staring off into the distance, not focusing at all.

"What?" He asked through clenched teeth.

He showed him the card.

"You've gone to this psychic before?"

The Idiot Hero didn't answer for a long moment.

"Once. He found my cat."

"He any good?"

The Idiot Hero tried to shrug, but gave up halfway through when he was nearly overcome by the pain.

"He's alright." He gasped, closing his eyes.

_I have my demand._

He picked up the phone. He could hear the negotiator on the other end. He glanced down at the card one more time.

"I want a psychic in here." He barked into the receiver.

"Shawn Spencer."


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken all of Shawn's powers of persuasion to convince the Chief to let him go in the store.

Lassie hadn't been much help, either.

"Chief, he's a civilian with no training in hostage negotiations. And with that smart-ass attitude of his…he's just going to get everyone in there killed."

"Someone in there is already bleeding to death," Shawn shot back. "He asked for a psychic. He's freaking out. He wants help. Give me five minutes, and I'll get him to release whoever's injured. Maybe even everyone."

_And if Gus is hurt,_ he thought to himself, _you won't have to worry about a trial._

Finally, the Chief had to agree that they didn't have any choice. He had to go in.

"Listen, Mr. Spencer," she said, jabbing her finger into his chest emphatically. "Your job is to get him to release the injured hostage. That's it. You can get as much recon as you want while you're at it, but you get out when the hostage gets out. Am I clear? We do not need any more complications. Don't be a hero."

He had agreed, of course. He couldn't tell her no…but his fingers were crossed behind his back.

As he stepped through the door into the video store, the first thing he saw was Gus lying on the floor, his shirt soaked in blood. The second thing he saw was the gunman; a tall but terrified looking man who was pacing anxiously at the front of the store.

_I could do it, _Shawn realized suddenly. _I could jump him right now…get that gun away from him…I could shoot him twice in the back of the head…one, two…it'd be over just like that…_

But it was too late. The gunman had already seen him, already pointed the gun at the bulletproof vest they'd made Shawn wear.

"Did someone order a psychic?" Shawn asked with his best fake smile, raising his hands in the air.

The gunman nodded slowly.

_I can do this…_Shawn kept thinking as he walked across the room, his arms still over his head…_This guy's panicking…he's going to mess up sooner or later…_

_I can get him._

"Well, here I am. Guaranteed delivery in thirty minutes or less or your next psychic is free."

"Huh?"

The man took the gun off Shawn briefly, looking somewhat bewildered.

_Okay, this is almost too easy._

Shawn glanced down at Gus. His chest was rising and falling painfully and his eyes were glazed over. He didn't even seem to be aware that Shawn was there.

_Get Gus out first…he doesn't have much time…_

"Why'd you ask for me?" Shawn asked the gunman, lowering his hands slowly, watching the gun.

"I need help."

"Clearly."

The man gestured with the gun at Gus.

"He said you helped him out once."

"Yeah, I did. Once. I remember him."

"Can you help me?"

Shawn could see his hands were trembling.

_He's scared to death. This is all an accident…a big, stupid accident..._

"I think I can."


	5. Chapter 5

It had occurred to Shawn earlier, of course, but he had put the thought out of his mind.

But now…seeing the pathetically frightened man in front of him, it occurred to him again. And this time, he didn't dismiss the idea right away.

_With four words, I could end this…_

_Four words…_

_There's no way out._

Of course the gunman would believe him if Shawn said there was no way out. He was at the end of his rope, in over his head…and a dozen other metaphors Shawn couldn't think of at that moment that all meant the same thing. He was a desperate man.

_There's no way out…they're going to kill you…_

It would take minutes. The man had clearly already considered it, anyway…his trembling hands and nervous, darting eyes were proof of that…

_Just end it yourself…it's the only way…_

Shawn had to restrain himself at first.

_Get Gus out first…then do what you have to do…_

"What do I do? How do I get out of this one?" The man asked, placing the gun against Shawn's head.

He couldn't even hold the barrel steady.

_Oh, yeah. This is going to be easy…too easy…_

"First of all, get that out of my face," Shawn snapped. "Bullets don't enhance my powers. Trust me on this one. You're not the first person to try it."

He didn't dare actually make a move for the gun. The hole in Gus' hand meant that was a mistake that had already been tried once.

The man slowly lowered the barrel.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay. First thing's first," he motioned to Gus, "he needs to get to the hospital now. You don't have to be psychic to figure that one out."

The man shook his head.

"I can't. I can't. Then it's just me and him," he waved at the cowering employee behind the desk.

"The police don't know how many people are in here," Shawn reminded him.

"They don't?"

"No. You won't tell them anything. Remember?"

"Right. Right. Damn pushy cops."

"They tend to get pushy when someone's life is at stake. If he dies, it's not going to end well for you."

Shawn had to strain to control his voice, to keep the threatening tone to a minimum. He wanted to smack this moron upside the head. He wanted to grab the gun and put a bullet in his brain…

From the floor, Gus moaned as his eyes finally fluttered shut.

He was completely unconscious now.

"Dammit! Let me get him out of here!" Shawn nearly lost it, but somehow regained control.

"There's an ambulance outside waiting. Once he's gone, you'll have more time to think."

"More time…" the man repeated slowly. That was good enough for Shawn.

He stooped down and in a single motion had Gus hoisted over his shoulder. He could already feel the blood soaking through his own shirt. He marched to the front of the store, kicking the makeshift barricade aside. He didn't look behind him once.

Two steps into the parking lot, he set Gus on the ground. The medics were there in an instant with a stretcher. Shawn stood and stepped back to let them work.

That was a mistake.

"Spencer!" He heard a familiar voice shout.

Lassie?

He never knew. He felt someone behind him and whirled around.

The gunman.

_He must've followed me out_…Shawn realized

He had the gun raised over his head…bringing it down fast…too fast…

_And I just stepped right into it._

The butt connected with his skull.

_Okay…_he thought as he fell into the painful, silent darkness…_this guy's dead…_


	6. Chapter 6

Shawn had never had a headache like this.

Well, not since Mardi Gras.

Or had it been Carnivale?

He groaned and sat up, rubbing the melon-sized lump jutting out from the side of his head.

"Sorry about that," a voice standing over him said flatly.

Through blurry eyes, Shawn stared up at a familiar face…

Who was it?

"Yeah. No problem," he groaned, struggling to his feet.

His vest was gone now.

As his vision slowly came into focus, he noticed the gunman was wearing it.

"I didn't want to do it. You just didn't leave me a whole lot of choice now, did you, psychic?"

The memories surged back…Gus…the gun…the blow to the head…

"What'd you do? Drag me back in here?"

He braced himself against the counter, behind which the clerk hadn't moved.

How long had that twerp been sitting there?

"Yeah. You still haven't helped me yet."

"And you thought giving me a concussion was the best way to get some help?"

"Well, you're here. So now what?"

Shawn was starting to get impatient, and his head was killing him. Let the moron shoot him. Gus was out, what did it matter now?

"We hold hands and sing the aria from Madam Butterfly. What the hell do you mean now what? This isn't Monopoly. You don't get a Get Out of Jail Free Card. You're holding people hostage, here. That's a definite go straight to jail, do not pass go do not collect $200. In any game. Life…Monopoly…the one with the checkers that's like tic tac toe…"

For a moment, Shawn could see his finger graze the trigger. The gunman's jaw clenched, but then he just smashed the gun into the counter top, spiderwebbing but not shattering the glass.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"Seriously. What do you expect me to do?"

"I dunno…you're a psychic…"

"Then let me clue you in. No matter what you do here, you're done. Toast. Toast on that really, really dark setting. The longer it takes you to go out there, the worse it's gonna be in the end. You don't need me to tell you that."

The man sank to the floor, resting his head against the counter.

"I screwed everything up."

"Yeah. You did."

"It was supposed to be easy…just get the DVD…get out…it's not my fault it wasn't here."

DVD? It was all about a DVD?

Shawn's mind began to work overtime.

Of course it was. Why else would you rob a video store?

"What was in it?" Shawn asked quietly.

"What?"

"The DVD case. There was something else in it, wasn't there?"

"No."

"Dude, come on now. Psychic, remember? There was something in there. Something…that wasn't yours. Something that you needed to get back for someone else. Someone who would kill you if they didn't get it back?"

"Stop it! Get out of my head!"

The man covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if that would stop Shawn from reading his thoughts.

"Sorry, no dice this time. Try a tinfoil hat, though. I hear they work wonders."

Shawn began to pace, keeping an eye on the bobbing gun.

"Something you needed to get back…" he repeated to himself.

What was it?

What was small enough to fit in a DVD case?

Well, a DVD.

A CD.

A CD-ROM

"You stole something…a computer program of some kind…maybe a virus. Whatever it was, the creator was willing to pay money to get back. But something went wrong. You never got the money. The person you were blackmailing…found out who you were. Dude, this has not been your week. They turned the tables on you. You had to get that CD ROM back to them. Fast. The only problem was…you returned it in a DVD rental case by accident. From there, everything just spiraled out of control. Am I close?"

The man stood up now. He was clearly rattled. He leveled the gun between Shawn's eyes.

"You talk too much. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Generally just people with guns."

The gun was steady now. Any tremor of fear in the gunman was gone.

He was ready to kill.

"You were right, you know. About the Monopoly Toast bit. It's over for me. Isn't it?"

"Pretty much."

"Then give me one reason why I shouldn't take you down with me."

"Just one?"

"Just one."

Shawn met his gaze evenly.

"How about this, then? You shot my best friend."

He grabbed the barrel of the gun and wrenched it out of the gunman's stunned fingers.

He leveled it between his eyes.

"Oh, and you also gave me a pounding headache. That's two reasons."


	7. Chapter 7

It felt good, holding the gun in his hand.

So good it almost scared Shawn.

He still had it pointed at the gunman's head. Right between the eyes.

"How many bullets?" He asked.

"What?"

The man's eyes were wide in terror.

The tables were turned.

Shawn liked it.

"How many bullets are left?" Shawn repeated.

"Fi—five. I think."

He pointed it at the floor and unloaded four rounds into the tile.

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

"Now there's one. That's all I need."

With each reverberating bang, the man flinched.

Shawn smiled.

Perfect.

"Do you know his name? The guy you shot?" He asked darkly.

"No."

The gunman's hands were in the air now. He stepped back, as if that would protect him.

"Gus. His name is Gus."

"It was an accident! I didn't mean--"

"You didn't mean to shoot him," Shawn finished the thought for him. "I know. He grabbed the gun, it went off."

"Yeah. Yeah. It went off. It went off!"

Shawn laughed.

It sounded harsh even to him.

"Did you mean to hold him in here for two hours while he bled to death? Was that an accident, too?"

"I—"

The man backed up another step, closer to the door. Shawn matched him, stride for stride.

"You know what? I don't want to hear it." He snapped. "Your Mommy didn't love you enough and your Daddy wanted you to be the next Tiger Woods. I've heard it all before. Hell, I've lived it. I just never shot anyone over it. Until now."

Shawn held up three fingers. The man backed up.

"Three."

Another step back.

"Two."

Shawn pressed the gun to the man's temple.

"One."

The man closed his eyes and winced.

Shawn gently pushed him backward, into the waiting arms of Lassiter.

"Ok, Spencer. Playtime's over," Lassiter grunted, snapping the handcuff on he gunman. "We got him. Put the gun down."

"It's about time, Lassie."

Shawn tossed the gun breezily to Juliet, who had entered with a few other officers behind Lassiter.

He watched them go to work; taking the gunman away in the squad car, locking down the building and helping the poor, terrified clerk.

Juliet placed the gun on the counter. She looked over at Shawn, searching his face for something…some clue.

"What were you doing, Shawn?" She asked finally.

Shawn shrugged.

"No. Tell me. What was with the Dirty Harry act?"

"It was the only way I could think of to get him out of here alive."

"What do you mean?"

"If I let him keep the gun, he would have eventually taken a shot at one of you and gotten himself killed. If I took the gun and tried to force him to surrender, he just would have fought and tried to get it back. That wouldn't have ended well for either of us."

"But you did take the gun."

"Yeah, and immediately fired four shots. Come on, four shots fired in a building with two hostages? No way you were going to sit outside and wait that one out. You had to make a move. I just had to keep him scared and distracted so he didn't do anything stupid until you did. I knew you wouldn't take him out as long as his hands were up and the gun was with me."

"You…"

Juliet stared at him and slowly shook her head, amazed.

"You saved his life, Shawn. Cliché as that sounds, you did."

"Yeah…well…I wasn't in a murdering mood today. Good thing he didn't catch me after I had lunch with my dad, though. That would've been a different story."

Juliet shook her head again, as always at a loss. She put the gun in an evidence bag and headed to the door.

"Gus'll make it." She added over her shoulder as she left the store. "He lost a lot of blood…but he'll make it."

"Serves him right."

Shawn pointed at the blood-spattered DVD case on the floor.

"He was renting Anchor Man…without me. He knows I love Will Ferrell."

Juliet laughed for the first time in a long time, and the two stepped from the darkness of the store into the light of the pink morning sun.


End file.
